It's been almost six weeks since they landed in Bolivia, six weeks of pretending to be Cougar's sweet American wife, six weeks of sharing his bed and holding his hand and making space for him in her personal bubble. She's always been comfortable around him, but it's like someone reached in and dialed that up to eleven, because now she orbits him like it's second nature, his silent lurking presence at her elbow so familiar that she doesn't even look up when he looms over her.
"See," she says, pointing at the screen of one of the two laptops she's got set up on their little Formica kitchen table, fully expecting the guys who are crowded around her to be paying attention. "It's got his dirty little fingerprints all over it. This guy is like a fucking toddler, all sticky hands and trailing crumbs. This is sloppy fucking work, I tell you, I could do better than this when I was fourteen." She sounds personally offended, like sloppy hacking is worse than any other offense she can think of.
Clay motions for her to get out of the way so he can peer at her screen from far too close — he has to get bifocals at some point, she's almost tempted to start placing bets on how long he's going to hold out — so she pushes out of her chair and stretches, feeling her back pop, before she moves closer to the stove. She wants more coffee.
Cougar's standing right there before she can even articulate her desire, holding out a cup of coffee that has so much sugar you could stand a spoon up in it. "Thanks, hermoso," she murmurs, accepting the cup and taking a small sip before leaning into his space to give him a peck on the lips. "Mm, perfect. I think I'm keeping you."
bolivia; rule 63; kisses!!
"See," she says, pointing at the screen of one of the two laptops she's got set up on their little Formica kitchen table, fully expecting the guys who are crowded around her to be paying attention. "It's got his dirty little fingerprints all over it. This guy is like a fucking toddler, all sticky hands and trailing crumbs. This is sloppy fucking work, I tell you, I could do better than this when I was fourteen." She sounds personally offended, like sloppy hacking is worse than any other offense she can think of.
Clay motions for her to get out of the way so he can peer at her screen from far too close — he has to get bifocals at some point, she's almost tempted to start placing bets on how long he's going to hold out — so she pushes out of her chair and stretches, feeling her back pop, before she moves closer to the stove. She wants more coffee.
Cougar's standing right there before she can even articulate her desire, holding out a cup of coffee that has so much sugar you could stand a spoon up in it. "Thanks, hermoso," she murmurs, accepting the cup and taking a small sip before leaning into his space to give him a peck on the lips. "Mm, perfect. I think I'm keeping you."